Sweet Eclipse
by RadicalMoon
Summary: You're taking over your mother's business for the summer, a lovely bistro in the renowned Sunshine Haven where rich, influential people from all over the world come to relax. Accustomed since long to a whole different lifestyle, you must now try to keep the café going at its best and get along with your employees—but there's more to the peaceful summer resort than meets the eye. AU
1. Prologue (Part 1)

_Author's Note:  
_

_I was initially planning for this to be sorta light-hearted/slice of life-ish, but too many good plots popped out and I just had to convert to the dark side. For now I still have a large amount of loose ends but be ready for a pretty long and hopefully amusing/interesting story.  
_

_Enjoy._

* * *

**Prologue**

There was always something you forgot before you left the house. Usually, you found that the keys were missing from your pockets or that you heard your phone call in the distance, leading you to hurry back inside and grab it before also shutting the window you had forgotten to close. But today—having checked all your pockets and bags for surely the hundredth time—you were saying goodbye to the sad, dilapidating hovel of a house. You were leaving what had been your beloved home for the last couple of years, your private sanctuary away from the world's cruelty, to spend your summer in hell. Just the thought of it made you feel bile rise in the back of your throat, threatening to make you hurl even before the torturous five-hour drive that was awaiting you. The whole thing sounded like the beginning of a bad joke, but a promise was a promise and you really, _really_ needed the money.

After a quick detour to your favorite coffeehouse, you were on the road again. The needlessly expensive drink pumped your veins with its addicting caffeine and suddenly, you weren't as sullen as before. You turned on your ancient radio and hummed the lyrics to a song you vaguely recognized before the singer's soothing tone was replaced with an annoying advertisement about dating online. Wearily, you switched between channels, more out of idleness than that you were searching for something interesting to hear, until a strict, professional voice caught your attention and you turned up the volume.

"...more and more rumors surface that Garrison Global's operating system 'Maria' carries the virus T1T4N, commonly known as 'Titan'. Investigations led by the Survey Corporation have revealed several faults in the system, all supposedly caused by the virus, and their spokesperson confirm that they suspect this years unusually high amount of stolen identities and personal data is due to Titans in Maria. Garrison Global has yet to make a public statement and the Central Military Brigade refused to comment on the situation."

You were suddenly happy you had spent a fortune on upgrading your laptop to the latest edition of Rose and kept listening intently, almost missing a critical turn to the right. A car behind you honked disapprovingly.

"...Maria became a world phenomena a decade ago year with its clean and easy design, cheap price and worldwide availability. Survey Corporation claimed already at the developing stage of the project that its firewall and anti-virus software were too weak to stand against Titan, but as they were unable to prove it, they were forced to retract their statement. It was still enough to make some people doubtful but after a weak initial launch week, it broke countless of past records and put Garrison Global on the top with Reiss International. That is all for now, Jill. We'll be discussing about Maria, Titan and more at seven o'clock tonight with our expert, Tom."

"Thank you, Michael. Moving on to the weather…"

You returned to a music broadcaster. The news about Maria were troubling and you didn't like the fact that the government still hadn't found whoever was behind Titan yet. That virus had caused your father trouble for far too long, being one of the main developers of Maria and an extremely high-ranking employee at Garrison Global. It had been months since you'd last heard of him and even though he'd almost always call during the weekends, you knew that he was busier with work than ever before and didn't bother calling him first.

As the hours dragged by, the scenery vastly changed. The dirt and the grime of the city was replaced with green, lush woods and endless fields of grass and wheat. The large cement buildings, the boutiques and the shopping centers, the suburban areas and the worn schools gave away for the nature and an occasional village or two. The flat landscape stretched as far as your sight could reach; tiny gatherings of trees surrounded farms with long intervals, their branches swaying gently with the wind; the clouds and the sky were kissed with the color of dawn: tender orange, fresh blue and soft cotton candy white. You recalled the many times you had traveled this exact road when you were younger—for more than a decade ago to be exact—when your parents were still married and your mother fervently insisted on visiting your current destination.

Sunshine Haven.

The word was a curse in your mouth. The foulest word you knew. Still, you, who had thought you would never have to see the place again, were currently in a car and rushing towards the fancy resort as if someone close to you and lived there were dying. And that was certainly not the case.

Your mother owned a bistro there, a very fine establishment with a successful history and influential customers. But now that she had married a Gary, they were heading away to some exotic place to spend their honeymoon while you had shouldered the duty to keep your mother's business going during her absence. The question had been asked during her wedding and since you could impossibly say no in front of everyone there, you had simply smiled like an idiot as you said: "Of course, mom!"

You couldn't believe how cruel she was to you. You were going to live in Sunshine Haven—probably every rich celebrity bastard's favorite and most wanted spot in the world—and three months at that! Three freaking months! And to make things worse, you had employees, economy and whatnot to take care of during the time.

The thought made you grumble with annoyance. How had your mother been able to miss the obvious error with having her little girl taking care of her posh cafe?

You didn't know _anything _about how to manage a business. You didn't even make your own coffee—you always bought it. And you weren't the sharpest tool in the shed regarding numbers and investments. You were neither stupid nor dumb, but there was a reason to why you kept to your books and paintings: numbers made your head spin in the strangest ways and instead of seeing them stacked up neatly on the paper, they would move and change places. Of course, nobody knew about this except you; your parents simply thought you weren't made for math and so did you.

The familiar silhouette of the lighthouse and the gray ribbon of sea could be seen by now and abruptly reminded you of the few good days there had been during your childhood. The times you and your parents had visited the beach, eaten picnic on the flat cliffs and strolled around amongst the shops. Your parents had never had any issue with money, especially not as of late, but you had never liked the way they obsessed and fought over economic welfare. You had never wanted them to buy you anything even as a child and the reluctance had grown when you had, making you suffer terribly at pathetic jobs in an effort to make it on your own. You felt uncomfortable with their preaching about your future and how important money was and you never kept much in the bank, afraid to someday become like your parents. There was actually nothing more you dreaded than that.

Your grip around the wheel had tightened until you no longer could feel your fingers. You relaxed and exhaled loudly, steering your car off the highway and into the urban area. Pondering at the past always led to the lump in your throat, an increasing heart rate and sweaty palms. You turned off the radio and tried to concentrate on driving as you maneuvered through the almost empty streets. You lost count of how many fancy bakeries, cafes and restaurants you passed and the large, exclusive shops with famous names made you feel awkward in your regular jeans and t-shirt. Your car wasn't especially old but it still looked extremely outdated compared to the slick sports cars and humongous jeeps you saw and some of the buildings were mad beautiful.

Distracted by all the waste of money, it took you quite a while before you remembered the way to your mother's combined home and business. The bistro was closed during weekends, so you'd have enough time to move in all your stuff and get comfortable before the real torment would begin. The thought of meeting your employees made you shudder.

Curving to the left at an intersection, you spotted the peach-colored, two-story building and approached it. The outer side was just as you remembered from the opening day; the windows to the bottom floor were large and welcoming, and tinier and covered with blinds at the second floor; a low metal fence without gate surrounded the chairs and tables at the front and framed the entrance together with tall plants you didn't know the names of. A sign hung above the double oak doors and you grimaced as you read "Sweet Eclipse" in black, squiggly letters. Something that cheesy was just like your mother.

It was obscure inside and you let out a breath you hadn't even realized you had held. Somehow you'd been afraid that your mother would be there but of course, she would never have chosen a later flight to be able to meet the daughter she hadn't seen in six months.

As you parked your car in the garage in the back, your phone buzzed twice. Confused, you rummaged through your handbag and read the message:

*The meeting's in five if you haven't forgotten. /Your manager*

You paled. You _had _forgotten. And you had also forgotten the most critical issue with your staying: your mother had a manager who would keep you from completely ruining your mother's name and a creepy one at that—how had the person even gotten your number?

Your mother's smiling face flashed before your eyes. Of course.

You got out of the car and sprinted in through the backdoor with your bags in tow. If you'd hurry, you would maybe be able to freshen up and get into something slightly more flattering than your current outfit. As much as you hated to admit it, you felt a suffocating pressure to look extra decent in front of this stranger that would be your manager.

When the automatic lights flickered on, you saw that the inside decor was as impeccable and typical your mother as the exterior. There were slender furniture in wood and velvet, a brown and black bar table in front of a large shelf stacked with alcohol and a long counter in marble. You saw shiny coffee machines in various sizes, empty glass counters where the cakes and pastries usually were and doors leading to the kitchen, the toilets and upstairs. You found and unlocked the door to the second floor with the keys your mother had sent you a week before and hurried up the tiny staircase. The apartment was exactly what you expected from your mother: modern, clean and unnecessarily expensive.

You hated it.

You threw your bags on the floor and found a not too wrinkled dress you change into. After quickly brushing your teeth and combing through your hair, you heard the entrance door unlock. Alarmed, you pulled on your favorite shoes, a thin cardigan and went downstairs. A slender guy in a dark suit closed the double doors after him and turned towards you, his penetrating, bright blue gaze almost making you stagger. His black hair was neatly parted and made in an old-fashioned undercut and his face was a symmetrical perfection of angles and lines, making your fingers itch for a pen and paper. You couldn't judge his exact age but he was definitely your senior.

"Hello?" you asked warily. "And who are you?"

"Levi Ackerman," he replied in a formal, curt tone and bowed. "I'm the executive director for Sweet Eclipse and your mother's business partner. Yours now, rather," he added.

So this was the creepy manager. He was pretty damn good-looking.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Ackerman." You swallowed nervously and raked a hand through your hair. You vaguely recalled your mother telling you about him but couldn't come up with anything on the spot. "If you've worked with my mother, I presume you already know my name, age and life story?"

His thin lips curved into the slightest smile. "Most likely, yes," he replied and gestured towards a table. "Shall we?"

You nodded and seated opposite to him, placing your elbows on the table. "So what's this about, Mr. Ackerman?" you asked uncomfortably, suddenly worried if your breath still smelled like coffee.

"A simple 'sir' will suffice," he said as he picked up a file from his briefcase. You waited while he organized the papers in your direction. "We're here to discuss your temporary position as owner here at Sweet Eclipse. Ninety days." A pale, bony finger tapped on a sheet and another three handed you a pen. "I would like you to sign here for your confirmation, your mother's recommendation. It'll make you the official owner of this establishment so that for an example, all deliveries can be signed with your name."

"Okay," you replied quietly as you hastily scribbled down your name and returned his pen. Inwardly you were roaring in anger and frustration. You were stuck here for ninety days. Could there be anything worse in life?

Levi immediately took it and the contract, quickly putting the latter into its file. "Is there anything else I need to sign?" you wondered as your eyes scanned the rest of the papers, simply seeing black, tiny-sized text fill up a lot of white.

He seemed to have noticed the source for your confusion because he quickly answered, "No, that's just the rest of the contract. I thought you might want to read everything so I brought it all."

Furrowing your brows, you raised your gaze to see if he was being sarcastic, but his cerulean eyes were solemn. You scratched the back of your head as you straightened. "Oh. Thanks. But I think I want to keep my current eyesight."

"Fine by me," he answered and gathered all the papers into the file. You couldn't tell if he was smirking again or not. "Do you have any questions?"

You had a million but knew that he probably wouldn't have time for it; people in Sunshine Haven rarely had. So instead of assaulting him with your pettiest inquiries, you sorted through them and picked some you deemed absolutely necessary.

"What's my job?" you wondered hesitantly, afraid that Levi would either laugh or reprimand you. Maybe even both. But he didn't seem too surprised with your words and you guessed that your mother really had rambled everything about you. If it was a blessing or curse, you could only wait and see but so far, Levi Ackerman didn't seem too bad.

"Standing as a face for the company," he began as he closed his briefcase and settled a skinny leg over the other. "I can and would prefer to handle economics and the like, but I can't really arrange any parties or important business meetings without you there. It also helps if you help serve your guests."

"Doesn't this place hire some kind of staff?" you asked and raised an eyebrow. "Or are they too few or unskilled?"

"Of course you have employees," he said and frowned at your skeptical tone. "And although they're all very hard-working brats, it's a different and more pleasant experience for the customers if they meet the owner. That's why your mother's bistro is going so well compared to all the others in Sunshine Haven—she appeals with her authenticity."

You sighed. "Fine, I'll do it." A flashback of your short time in the restaurant business made you shudder in fear although you did your best not to show it. "When can I meet the rest of the workers?"

The raven-haired man shrugged. "Whenever you want," he responded and held up the latest phone on the market. "Do you have a date?"

The lazier part of you longed for a cozy corner to read a book while the reasonable part told you that it was best to meet your mother's employees as soon as possible, especially since you had time to spare. After a brief struggle with yourself, you decided of an answer.

"I want to meet them now."


	2. Prologue (Part 2)

They entered the bistro like lambs to slaughter.

"And that would be the last one," Levi said when he ominously locked the doors for the twelfth time. The petite blonde shyly dropped her gaze to the ground as she hurried to join in the line with the rest of the employees.

You quickly examined everyone from head to toe. At first you had thought it a bit strange that your manager called them "brats" but in flesh, you realized that he had a valid point—nobody was older than you.

"Brats."

Levi gestured towards you and you manufactured a smile. "Hey, everyone," you greeted. "I'm—"

"Your new boss," interrupted the black-haired man and scowled at you.

It was a warning.

Surprised by his rudeness but obedient nonetheless, you reluctantly remained quiet as he told the new faces about your mother and the horrible situation you had been forced into. Only, not with those exact words. Levi Ackerman was clearly a businessman and a good one at that, judging by the sincerity in his tone as he… _embellished_ your background. You failed to recognize some of the words (later, you searched them on your computer and found out that it was different sorts of pastry; hah! It sounded more like diseases) but his audience seemed impressed enough, nodding and rounding their eyes at his lies.

"... and she'll be staying with us for ninety days," he concluded.

"Ninety?" huffed a brown-haired girl with dark freckles across her cheekbones. Her slim eyes scrutinized you way more intrusively than you thought was possible and you instinctively felt an urge to cover up. "That's oddly precise. May I ask why?"

"Ymir," whispered the blonde girl who had gotten there last and tugged at her friend's leather jacket. "That's none of our business."

Levi ignored them. He turned to you and nonchalantly gestured towards the right side of the line where a tall, bulky guy waited. "Shall we?"

You nodded and followed his lead.

"Reiner Braun," Levi announced. "Of our two chefs, Braun is the most experienced and therefore also the executive chef. Anything regarding the kitchen or its food lands on his responsibility, so that's the guy you want to find if you have anything to complain on."

"Not like that'll ever happen," Reiner chuckled and held out an enormous hand, calloused, scarred and muscular from years in the cooking business. Short, blonde hair covered his skull in an inconspicuous hairstyle and small, amber-colored eyes set deep within their sockets looked down at you from a broad, masculine face. Still, even though his height and physique were intimidating—practically swelling beneath his polo shirt and chinos—, his eyes revealed nothing but friendly serenity. He didn't look even a day older than you but you could still feel the authority and maturity from someone twice your age.

Your hand was swallowed by his and he shook it so vigorously that your whole body followed. "N-nice t-to m-meet y-you," you managed to utter between your clattering teeth.

"The pleasure's all mine."

You heard Levi snort and glanced at him. He folded his arms over his chest and nudged his pointy chin upwards.

"Move on," he commanded.

You pulled out of Reiner's hand and took an awkward step to the left. The dark-haired guy next to Reiner towered high above everyone else and his lean, plainly clad and fully covered frame timidly offered you long, slim fingers. Moss green eyes in a fair, oval face quickly averted to the side as you took his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Miss," he quietly murmured.

"Bertolt Hoover." Levi sounded utterly bored. "He works behind the counter with all sorts of stuff but mainly takes care of the coffee and tea service."

Bertolt's clasp was light and careful. Or so you thought, but really anything would feel gentle after Reiner's powerful handshake. Seeing his shyness, you felt a smile spread over your lips as you greeted him in return.

"I can speak for myself."

The girl with the freckles placed one hand on each side of her hips and had replaced her penetrating gaze to a look of unconcern. Thick strands of brown hair escaped her short ponytail and framed a currently bored, oblong face. Two pale lines—probably from a bikini—marked the otherwise tanned skin beneath the neckline of her loose, almost transparent white t-shirt and a pair of aviators were tucked into the small chest pocket of her fitted, cognac-hued leather jacket. Long, slender legs peeked out from a pair of ripped and bleached denim shorts and ended in old, red sneakers with a somewhat familiar brand written across their heels in fat silver letters. A tiny black tattoo decorated the inner side of her right wrist and fake gold glimmered in her ears.

"Name's Ymir," she casually stated. "I'll be pouring liquid wonder from four-pm to closing time. Or whenever else you wanna have fun."

You slowly nodded, briefly eying all the alcohol behind her. "Right. Hello."

Ymir brought an arm around the short blond to her right, gingerly rubbing her friend's comparably paler, naked arm, and grinned slyly.

"And this is my goddess, Krista," she went on, her voice filled with sarcastic pride, and pressed the girl to her side. Krista yelped in surprise as her head slammed into Ymir's ribs and then blushed furiously while trying to get out of the taller girl's grip. "You won't find a waitress with a cuter ass than hers."

Stifled laughters surged through the employees except for Levi who was unmoved, simply waiting for the situation to take its course. He noticed you looking and creased his forehead ever so slightly as his azure eyes shifted to you. You quickly turned your gaze straight.

"Ymir, don't you have any shame?" exclaimed a light, abashed voice.

Krista's golden—or rather, ruby—head was locked tightly into the crook where Ymir's arm connected to her chest, and her captor chuckled menacingly as she squealed in discomfort.

"Aw, come on, babe," Ymir replied teasingly. "I'm just a simpleton. Why would you expect something as difficult and complicated as 'shame' from _me_?"

But she eased up on her friend. Krista disentangled herself from Ymir and gave her a none too intimidating glare before turning to you with a warm smile. She was very, _very_ pretty with large blue, almost violet, eyes surrounded by inch-long, dark eyelashes and neatly plucked eyebrows. Her round face was partly covered by her now messy bangs and her naturally blonde hair reached to slightly beneath her fragile shoulders where it bent inwards, shaping a bright halo. She wore a crinkled dress in childish colors together with a pair of worn combat boots and although they weren't the perfect fit for either her or each other, it made her look even cuter. Ymir seemed as old as you but Krista was definitely a couple of years younger, probably even beneath twenty. You briefly started wondering where your mother had gotten such a young staff to work at her bistro but Krista's voice interrupted your train of thought before it could depart.

"It's so exciting to finally meet you," she said and reached for your hand, shaking it. She was surprisingly strong for her size. "I've heard so much good about you from your mother. You're an artist, right?"

Your eyes widened. "She actually told you about that?" you asked in disbelief. Your mother had never supported your choice to join art school or any of your creative displays even as a child. That was probably the main reason why you decided to stay with your father when the divorce was administrated—he had always urged you to follow your own path.

Krista nodded eagerly. "Yup," she cheerfully replied. "She said you spent four years on that fancy school in Stohess and got in all by yourself, no money involved. That's so impressive! I've always wanted to know how to draw but unfortunately, I've got absolutely no talent for it. Seems some of us are just born unlucky."

Her voice lowered towards the end of her sentence. Feeling sympathetic and very much flattered, you suddenly came up with a decision.

"Well, I'm sure you aren't _that _bad," you comforted the small girl. "It simply takes a while before you learn. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two?"

Her eyes lightened up with delight. "That would be so nice of you!" She then gathered herself and looked down at her nervously intertwined hands. "Only, I don't want to be annoying. Are you sure you want to bother yourself with me?"

She was heart-wrenchingly adorable. Although you initially had started to feel doubtful to your spontaneous choice, you were immediately filled with steadfast determination as you saw her reaction.

"Of course," you answered with a smile.

Krista met your eyes with glee but Ymir suddenly stepped closer to you and crossed her arms. Looking down at both of you, she announced, "No private lessons. I'm going to be present every time, babe."

"S-sure," you replied, your valiance dissipating in an instant. Frankly, Ymir was a bit… frightening to be around.

"But you hate art!" Krista protested to your left. "Your negative aura will be so depressing!"

Ymir was stern and shook her head once. "No buts. Or butts. I'll make damn sure of the latter."

"You're so ridiculous, Ymir," said the blonde and glared at her friend.

"So what?" Ymir parried as she smirked, amused by Krista's feeble attempt to seem threatening. "I'd actually like to see you try to stop me."

Krista exhaled in resignation. "Fine. Just promise you'll stay quiet. And I'm picking tonight's movie."

Ymir shrugged but was obviously pleased with how things had gone. "As you wish, my goddess," she replied in poorly concealed content.

"How entertaining."

Levi sounded all but amused as the three of you looked at him. Ymir and Krista quietly shuffled back to their places in the line while he scornfully eyed them and then switched his gaze to you.

"This is what happens if you let them speak too much." The way he pronounced "them" made it sound like he was talking about something as inferior as an insect. "Move on," he repeated.

You reached another blonde, though the shade of her sloppily tied hair leaned more towards rye rather than gold.

"Annie Leonhart," Levi spoke with indifference. "She is the main baker at Sweet Eclipse and mainly handles the bread department."

Her calloused fingers slid into yours and you shook hands. "Nice to meet you," you said, looking down at her. The pale girl met your gaze with neutral, steel blue eyes and she tucked a lesser part of her fringe behind her left ear. A strong, beaky nose made the center of her heart-shaped face and gave her an unfriendly, or at least bored expression. She wore simple gray running tights, a matching pair of jogging shoes and a beige hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves retracted to her elbows, her outfit revealing a slight and athletic body. Her demeanor made her seem older than you but not at all in a reassuring way like Reiner; she was cold and distant, and clearly in a purposeful way.

"Likewise," Annie responded dully.

Uncomfortable by the silence that she then left you hanging with, you quickly went on to the next person in line. A lean guy was nonchalantly weighing on his right foot with his arms crossed over his chest and although he was of average length, he was considerably taller compared to both Krista and Annie. Your unaccustomed neck craned upwards as Levi spoke.

"Jean Kirstein, waiter."

His russet hair was also cropped in an undercut but unlike your manager, he kept his hair short and intentionally tousled on the crown of his head. Two orbs of liquid bronze briefly glanced down at you from a long, rectangular face before moving to Levi.

"That's all I get?" Jean asked in dismay as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand. His sky blue button-up shirt flattered his well-defined torso and stretched tight over his surprisingly broad shoulders. "I think I deserve a lot more than that, sir."

Someone further down the line snickered. "Funny you mentioned that…" said a male voice. "I thought _exactly_ the same."

In the corner of your right eye, you saw Annie, Krista, Ymir and Reiner almost simultaneously roll their eyes, Bertolt being too shy to mimic their action. A furrow appeared between Levi's thin eyebrows but other than that, he didn't react.

"Shut up," growled Jean as his gaze darted to his right. "Who got the most customers yesterday, huh?"

Your attention veered into the same direction as Jean's. The person who had spoken stepped out of the line, revealing a tanned, willowy guy with disheveled brown hair and a boyish grin across his soft lips. His dazzling teal eyes fixed on you once before looking at Jean.

"Please," he said as he raised a dismissive hand, his loose sleeve crawling down his wiry arm. "I got the best score all other days."

"Shithead," Jean muttered, "Fridays give extra credit."

"Horse-face," replied the other brunette, "but I still win in points."

"Suicidal freak."

"Wimp."

Before Jean could retort a fourth time, Levi harshly interjected, "Enough with the dick-measuring contest; I have something I've got to do after this."

Both Jean and the teal-eyed guy regarded their boss with suspicion glimmering in their eyes. "Is it that summer sale in Trost you're talking about?" they wondered in perfect unison. "Gonna stack up cleaning supplies yet again?" added the latter.

"No," Levi instantly snapped. You looked at him and his bright blue gaze hardened. "It's called a life, you filthy pigs. And for the record, you're both equally miniscule. Now, get the fuck back in line, Jaeger."

It startled you that such a proper-looking man like Levi Ackerman cursed, but nobody else seemed especially taken aback. The authority in his voice was unmistakably sharp, leaving no room for either complaints or protests, and as the two boys grudgingly returned to their previous spots, he urged you towards the two guys to Jean's right.

"Marco Bott." Levi heaved a sigh. "He fixes the dishes together with Connie Springer and both occasionally help with service whenever it's necessary."

Marco Bott was an inch taller than Jean but other than that, they possessed about the same physique. He carried his casually clothed body with less arrogance than anybody else there—except for the timid Bertolt—and his face lighted up in a genuine smile as your eyes met, a pleasant treatment after Ymir's relentless sarcasm. His short, black hair didn't really seem to be set in a real hairstyle and round coppery eyes contradicted his diamond-shaped face, giving him a kind, youthful look.

"Pleasure making you acquiantance," Marco politely greeted you as he bowed his head.

Connie Springer was the shortest guy present and his head almost seemed too big for his slim, angular body. His dark hair was cropped to the skull and a pair of hazel brown eyes leveled with yours as a wide grin parted his lips.

"Hey!" said Connie cheerfully and raised his hands from the pockets of his khaki pants.

You nodded towards both of them. "Nice to meet you both," you replied in a friendly manner.

Marco seemed inclined to say something else but Levi cut him off with a snort. "Time is running short. Let's hurry up the process."

He aimed a bony finger at the average-sized girl standing next to Connie. Her hair was dark auburn, almost brown, and she had bright, tawny eyes. The girl was halfway through a large granola bar but she immediately stuffed it into her handbag, sending crumbles flying all over her red dress with floral design, when she noticed that she was being the source of your attention. She quickly chewed and swallowed before giving you a weak smile.

"Sasha Blouse," Levi told you, sneering at her acts. "Our second waitress. Be wary of her around food—last Halloween, she ate a whole pumpkin."

You frowned at him. "I thought you weren't supposed to eat them," you said in bewilderment. "Aren't they just a decor?"

He simply gave you an unfazed look and your eyes widened as you understood.

"Anyways, she has somewhat of a food issue," he casually concluded. "So keep an eye on her."

"I've never stolen anything from the bistro!" Sasha exclaimed, attracting your attention. "I promise!" she went on as she saw you raise your eyebrows in a skeptical manner. "Your mother would have fired me long ago if else! Right, sir?"

Levi shrugged as you glanced back at him. "She's right," he admitted. "But still, don't trust her around food. Actually, scratch that. Let me put it this way: don't trust her around anything even barely edible."

Sasha pulled together her eyebrows. "Sir, you are too awful."

"And you eat too much. Tsk. Next."

Sasha folded her arms across her chest and pouted as she glared at something in the floorboards. You wanted to comfort her but Levi's tense attitude rolled off of him in waves; you didn't want to risk making him even more annoyed, seeing how volatile personality he had.

You found yourself ushered to the last three people in line. Levi lazily waved a hand towards each of them as he spoke, "Armin Arlert and Mikasa and Eren Jaeger."

Armin was also blessed with a golden nimbus and with his sweet, round face and brilliant dark blue eyes, he looked about as intimidating as a puppy. His delicate, juvenile body clearly indicated that he was less than twenty years, probably just in his mid-late teens, although your observation was quickly contradicted when you saw how clean complexion he had, considering how embarrassingly pimply you had been as younger.

Mikasa had long, raven hair reaching to her waist and soft bangs framed her heart-shaped face. She was without doubt very pretty with her ivory skin and odd, almond-shaped eyes, although not as pretty as Krista or even Armin; she was beautiful in a mature, womanly way without any make-up or flashy clothes but it was still difficult for you to actually deem her attractive since her features were set in a completely stoic demeanor. She reminded you a little of your manager but where Levi was scornful, Mikasa was completely emotionless.

Next to her stood a grinning Eren, the same guy who had pissed off both Jean and Levi. You hadn't missed what your manager mentioned: Mikasa and Eren shared the same surname and since they didn't look even the slightest related, you found yourself at a crossroad. Were they sharing only one parent? Or were they… married?

"Arlert is our secondary baker," informed Levi as you shook hands with mentioned person—you didn't know whether to address him as a boy or guy. To your right, you saw that Sasha had begun nibbling on her granola bar again, muttering something as Connie gently padded her on the shoulder. "He works with Leonhart and mainly handles the pastry."

"Nice to meet you," you smiled and turned back towards the blonde.

Armin returned a small smile as he glanced down at his feet. "Y-yeah, h-hi."

Levi rolled his eyes. "Mikasa is the secondary chef," he went on, "and Jaeger is a waiter."

You vaguely noticed that your manager spoke of Mikasa in first name before greeting your two last employees. Mikasa's clasp was iron while Eren's was warm and comforting.

"Hello," Mikasa wearily mumbled into the maroon scarf that covered her neck and the lower part of her face, her dark eyes revealing nothing as she met your gaze.

"Finally meeting the boss' daughter, I see," said Eren and his grin widened. "You're every bit as pretty as I expected."

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks but before you could answer, Levi interjected.

"Shut your mouth, Jaeger," he snapped. "Save that bullshit for the customers."

"Ouch," coughed Jean, earning a couple of chuckles from the rest of the line.

Eren shrugged but obeyed and stayed quiet. Still, his intensely cerulean eyes fixed like lasers on you and made you blush even more. Levi silently started away from him and you quickly followed, gladly throwing yourself onto a reason to be able to avoid Eren's gaze.

"So, what about maintenance?" you asked as you looked about; the interior was impeccably neat. "I don't think you said anything about cleaners."

His voice was cold as ice, chilling you to the very bones.

"Everyone cleans," Levi replied and turned around to glare at you, his azure eyes digging into yours. "And I _personally_ will check if it's clean or not."

You resisted the urge to gulp and simply nodded. Levi's eyes remained on yours for a moment more before he snorted and started towards the door, picking up his furiously buzzing phone.

"We're done," he announced and unlocked the door, the phone already tucked to his ear. "Be back here by the same time tomorrow. You're dismissed."

Shortly after Levi's departure, the rest of the employees also took off. Some, such as Mikasa and Annie, merely glanced at you once or twice before leaving but others were happy to voice their merry goodbyes.

"Bye!" chirped Krista as she was hauled out of the bistro by the smirking Ymir. The latter gave you a mischievous wink, making your smile stiffen.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Reiner and Bertolt strolled out, followed by Connie and Sasha. Sasha was visibly uncomfortable as she neared you and abruptly stopped in front of you to bow deeply.

"I-I'm not a thief, I promise you that, ma'am," she nervously stuttered. "I've n-never touched the food here. I-I only went for the pumpkin since… I don't know, it… it was there?"

Your eyes widened and you immediately tried to make her stand. "Sasha," you awkwardly said. "Ehm… don't you worry about that. I believe you."

She promptly straightened and a smile lighted up her kind face. "Thank you very much!" she called, then darted towards the entrance with an embarrassed Connie in tow. "Come on, Connie, that new yoghurt shop is opening soon!"

"Ice cream in the morning?" Connie exclaimed in panic before they, too, disappeared out the door. You let out a breath of relief and placed a hand over your tired eyes.

"Seriously? The first thing you try to do with our new boss is flirting? I thought we had a rule against that!"

"Sure, when she was old and stuff. This girl can't be more than twenty-five. You still wanna keep up with that shit?"

You blush as you hear the last and spin around to face the voices. Jean and Eren were glaring at each other again, a concerned Marco and an nervous Armin standing at respective friend's side. Jean was scowling, his arms crossed over his chest, and looked down at the slightly shorter Eren who never seemed to drop his impish, loop-sided grin.

"Not really," Jean reluctantly admitted. "So we're removing that one?"

Eren shrugged. "If you want to," he nonchalantly responded.

They exchanged glances in silence. Then, Jean's mouth curved into a smile matching Eren's. "Fine," he agreed and held out his hand.

"Deal then," Eren confirmed and grasped Jean's hand. "Starting tomorrow?"

"Starting tomorrow."

The four of them relaxed and turned towards the door, only then realizing that you had been watching them the whole time. Their faces turned red, especially Armin's, and they were quick to evacuate the room, which was fortunate, since you had been contemplating whether to smack their heads together or throw a bottle of alcohol at them. What? You _were_ actually the owner of the place now.

"See you around!" shouted Eren after him. Your eyes met one last time before the heavy double doors closed shut and the boys headed off west, towards the center of the town.

With a sigh, you made sure that all the doors to the establishment were locked and then dragged yourself upstairs, unhooking your shoes from your feet during the ascent. You showered and got into your laziest, sloppiest clothes before sinking down on your mother's gigantic bed with a book in hand.

"Let the summer begin," you breathed to no one in particular.


End file.
